To Not Show Weakness
by ILoveHarryJamesPotter
Summary: What feelings was Harry going through the night his godfather Sirus died? Will he be able to deal with all his emotions? Will he ever forgive Dumbledore or himself? What new horrors does Lord Voldemort have in store for him? Read and review!
1. To Not Show Weakness

**Author's Note: **This story is based on J.K Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. _I have taken inspiration from the chapter called _The Lost Prophecy _and have used some of her basic ideas to write this story. It is my perception of Harry Potter's reaction to Sirius Black's death in his confrontation with Albus Dumbledore.

This is my very first fan fiction story. PLEASE review after reading my story. I appreciate any constructive feedback, provided that it is not unkind or demeaning. However, Flamers will not be tolerated.

**Disclaimer: **Ido not own Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore or Sirius Black. Those characters are entirely the property of JK Rowling. I am not intending to make financial profit from this story.

**To Not Show W****eakness**

Harry gazed dully around Dumbledore's office, watching the portraits uninterestedly. He had already tried the door but it was locked as he had expected. He had cursed inwardly at this and had scolded himself for even raising his hopes about leaving without seeing Dumbledore. There was no way he would be allowed to escape Dumbledore's empty words of comfort. He would have to endure Dumbledore's unjust explanations for all his actions, and would be forced to relive the events of that night and this was the last thing that Harry wanted to do. He didn't want to think about it; he wanted to pretend it was all a horrible nightmare and when he awoke everything would be fine. Harry wanted to avoid the moment when he would think about Sirius. It hurt too much to think about right now.

Harry wandered idly along the walls of the office, lost in his thoughts. A loud _whooshing _noise snapped him out of his thoughts and he stopped and turned around. Albus Dumbledore was climbing out of the fireplace, brushing ashes from his robes onto the carpet. Silently, he walked to the perch beside the door and placed Fawkes gently on it. Harry did not look at him; he turned away and looked out of the nearest window where he had a view of the Quidditch pitch. It was raining heavily outside, but he could just make out the stands and the hoops at either end of the pitch. It was somewhat soothing; he had to admit to himself, looking out onto the pitch. Quidditch was like that, he supposed. It always made him forget his worries.

'Harry,' said Dumbledore gently. Harry was startled and turned around sharply. He had momentarily forgotten Dumbledore had returned. Dumbledore stared at him intently for a couple of minutes and Harry avoided his gaze by looking determinedly down at the carpet. He was going to be all right; if he could just control his emotions for a little while longer, he could get away from this office without cracking and showing weakness to Dumbledore.

'Harry, please look at me,' requested Dumbledore. Harry glanced briefly at Dumbledore and then resumed his original staring position. He knew he was being rude, but he found he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to leave this office. That was what he wanted more than anything right now.

'I know how you're feeling Harry. I'm deeply sorry about Sirius,' continued Dumbledore quietly. Harry fumed inwardly. Dumbledore was sorry, was he? What was he sorry for? Sorry that he had imprisoned Sirius inside Grimmauld Place? Sorry that Harry had now lost his godfather in addition to his mother and father? Sorry that his neglect of Harry over the past year had most likely caused the death of Sirius? As for knowing about his feelings, did Dumbledore even know how to feel? Harry turned back to the window, not wishing to encourage the continuation of this conversation.

Dumbledore sighed. He hadn't expected it to be easy. He walked slowly across to Harry and laid his hand gently on his shoulder, 'Harry, please talk to me,' he whispered. Harry spun around and took a step backwards, shaking off Dumbledore's hand. After everything that Dumbledore had done to him that year, from ignoring him and refusing to look at him, he now wanted Harry to talk to him. It was quite ironic actually, Harry thought bitterly. Where was Dumbledore when Harry had last wanted to talk? Unable to control himself, 'I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW!' he yelled. 'YOU IGNORED ME THE ENTIRE YEAR! I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY!'

Dumbledore smiled sadly. 'You may not have anything to say, Harry. But I need to provide you with an explanation for my actions throughout this year –' he could not finish the rest of his sentence because Harry had seized one of the many delicate silver ornaments in his room and had hurtled it across the room, his face contorted with fury. 'I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR EXPLANATIONS!' he roared. 'THERE IS NO JUSTIFICATION FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME THIS YEAR! YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO BE GUILTY!'

Ignoring the gasps and disapproving expressions from the portraits behind him, Harry strode quickly across the room, past Fawkes, to the door, forgetting that it was locked. He just wanted to get out of the office before he did something he would later regret. He wrenched at the handle and was confused for a fraction of a second when the door refused to open. Fuming, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at the door. '_Alohomora!' _he said firmly. It still did not open.

Harry spun on his heel and glared at Dumbledore who was watching him intently, not seeming to be disturbed that Harry had just broken one of his most valuable objects. 'Are you happy? You've made me a prisoner in your office! But that's to be expected – especially after last summer,' he spat. He was shaking with anger. Trying to calm his ragged breathing, he leaned against the door for a few moments. 'Let me out,' he said after a pause. Dumbledore said nothing, but continued to watch him. 'Didn't you hear what I said? Open the door and let me out!' Dumbledore rubbed his hands over his eyes tiredly and said kindly, but firmly, 'I am afraid I cannot do that, Harry. You are not in a state to go back to Gryffindor Tower. In addition, as I mentioned earlier, there are a lot of things that I need to talk to you about.'

'I DON'T WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY!' shouted Harry furiously. 'I just want to leave your office and grieve for my dead Godfather alone! I don't want to stay here and listen to your explanations, delayed as they are,' he spat. Harry pointed his wand at Dumbledore, too angry to know what he was doing. He saw a momentary look of shock flit across Dumbledore's tired face and then resignation. 'You are going to attack me, Harry?' he asked, sadly. Harry froze and looked down at his arm; it was raised in mid air and his wand was still positioned directly at Dumbledore. Shocked, he let his arm fall to his side hastily but then laughed bitterly. Of course he wouldn't attack Dumbledore, regardless of how much he deserved it, after all, he was Dumbledore's good little boy...and where had that got him? Sirius had died...all because of not questioning Dumbledore's actions all year. 'JUST LET ME OUT OF HERE!' he screamed. 'YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO KEEP ME IN HERE!'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Harry, I am not going to let you out. It would be very foolish to send you out right now. You will stay here, until I say otherwise. The things I need to discuss with you this evening are very important. I will wait until you are ready.' Dumbledore walked around his desk and sat down calmly.

'I WANT TO BE ALONE! I NEED TO BE ALONE!' shouted Harry angrily. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Precisely,' he said. 'You want to be alone because you fear you will shatter and lose control, and you do not wish to reveal weakness to anyone.'

'Well, you're wrong as usual! Wrong!' Harry said vehemently. To his horror, he could feel a peculiar burning sensation near the corners of his eyes. He turned away hastily, and stared at the door until his vision cleared.

'It is okay to cry, Harry,' said Dumbledore softly. Harry whirled around. 'I AM NOT CRYING!' he yelled. He could feel his face getting hot. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was coming in shallow gasps. He couldn't take this anymore. One more second in this room, and he was going to crack. Harry decided to try another strategy. Taking a deep breath, and controlling the anger in his voice, he said 'Professor, please let me out now. I will return whenever you wish. I will listen to all of your explanations, but not today-' he trailed off when he saw Dumbledore hold up his hand.

'Harry, I have already said this. I will not allow you to leave this room until you have heard everything I need to say. How long you wish to remain here is up to you. I have nothing else to say in this matter.' Harry glared furiously at Dumbledore, aware of the waves of anger threatening to wash over him again. He balled his hands into fists and struggled to keep his temper in check. He had the vague feeling that Dumbledore knew exactly of his internal struggle and it irritated him.

'Please, Harry. I am sorry about this,' said Dumbledore quietly. Harry observed a slight tremor in his voice. Behind Harry, Fawkes uttered a long, low cry that was heart rending, yet beautiful in melody. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly felt on the verge of tears and found himself thinking about Sirius again. Sirius had died...it had been less than two hours and yet he felt a part of himself was missing. He still couldn't understand why he was feeling he had simply misplaced that part; that he would soon retrieve it. Sirius was gone...forever.

'I made many mistakes this year, Harry. I am sorry and I only hope you will forgive me,' said Dumbledore softly. His voice shook with emotion. Harry, who had been watching Sirius fall back into the veil in his mind, nearly missed out on what Dumbledore had said. _Dumbledore _admitted he had made a mistake? Harry stood stock still, feeling the hollowness inside him more than ever. Fawkes made a cooing noise and Harry turned his face towards the door, suddenly aware of an uncomfortable wetness on his cheeks. 'Harry, crying does not indicate weakness,' said Dumbledore mildly and continued when Harry did not turn on him in fury. 'Rather, it helps eliminate the intense sorrow you are feeling.'

He walked over to where Harry stood slowly, encouraged that Harry did not prevent him from coming nearer. When he was only a foot or so away from Harry, he cautiously extended his arm and laid it on Harry's shoulder. Harry did not shake it off; it somehow felt mildly comforting. He stiffened slightly when Dumbledore laid his other hand on his other shoulder and turned his body to face him. Harry lowered his eyes which were still bright with tears, unable to look at Dumbledore, whose eyes were filled with compassion and affection. 'I'm truly sorry that I was a cause of the loss of your Godfather,' he said sadly. 'Before more innocent lives can be lost and more mistakes can be made on my part, I will tell you everything. Please come with me, Harry,' and with that, he patted Harry gently on the shoulder and walked over to his desk. Harry hesitated slightly, then wiped his face and walked across the office avoiding the fallen, broken objects and seated himself opposite Dumbledore. It was time to discover the truth behind the secrets Dumbledore had kept from him all these years and the justifications and explanations of Dumbledore's actions that year.

**Author's Note 2: **Please review! As I have mentioned before, this is my first attempt at a fan fiction story. Any feedback will be gladly accepted, provided that it is not unkind. Thanks!


	2. Nothing More Than A Pawn

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a continuation of what happens that terrible night when Harry hears the secret of the prophecy that has been kept from him all these years. Please review!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort or Sirius Black. Those characters are entirely the property of J.K.Rowling. I am not intending to make financial profit from this story.

**Nothing more than a pawn**

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die the at hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._ __

- _Page 741, The Lost Prophecy, Harry Potter and the Order of the _ _Phoenix_

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It had been ten minutes since Dumbledore had finished speaking, and since then, he had sat with his face covered in his hands, his shoulders slumped. His intense despair both alarmed and infuriated Harry; Dumbledore was not supposed to show any signs of weakness, he embodied strength; he was the leader for the Light side. 

It frightened Harry to see his Headmaster so incredibly old and vulnerable. He had an urge to break the silence by offering some words of comfort to Dumbledore; that it would all be alright, it would all turn out okay...but would it? The words of the prophecy played over and over in Harry's mind and he sat in silence, allowing the waves of fear, panic and despair to overwhelm him.

Questions after questions raced through Harry's mind...surely there must be some mistake; surely it wouldn't boil down to this..._but it explained everything, _said a snide voice inside his head. It explained why Voldemort had hunted him down all these years; it explained why Dumbledore had done everything in his power to protect him...

Was that the reason for why Dumbledore had wanted Harry to remain alive all these years? Was he really no more than a weapon in Dumbledore's eyes...Harry shook his head vehemently, he did not want to believe this of Dumbledore, he _couldn't _believe this of him...

He bit his lip, fighting desperately against the urge to take reassurance from his Headmaster. Harry did not like taking reassurances from people. He debated with himself; perhaps some reassurance would mellow the aching emptiness and misery within his chest. He fidgeted uncertainly with his hands in his lap, torn between asking and keeping quiet.

'Professor?' he blurted out suddenly. Dumbledore looked up slowly, his face tired and pale in the early morning light and nodded slightly in assent. Unable to stop himself, Harry continued, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, 'All these years...I've been just a mere pawn...a weapon to you, and the Order...?' he trailed off miserably.

Dumbledore sighed and did not speak for a while. Finally, he said wearily, 'I believe many genuinely care about you, Harry. Including myself.' His voice wavered slightly and he did not look at Harry. Harry stared at Dumbledore, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. He somehow...had expected a more reassuring answer.

Harry looked down at his hands and a wave of anger suddenly crashed over him. Why didn't Dumbledore tell him all this stuff about the stupid prophecy sooner? It could've saved Sirius's life. And anyway, why did he have to tell him all this tonight? It wasn't like it mattered now. Sirius was dead and he wasn't coming back. And anyway, it wasn't the best time to break such terrible news.

'I think I'd like to leave now,' Harry said shortly. He got to his feet and turned, to begin walking to the door.

'Harry, I don't think you are in a condition to leave my office,' said Dumbledore gently. Harry stopped in his tracks and stood still, unable to believe what Dumbledore had just said. He turned around slowly. 'You said you would let me out...if I listened to what you have to say,' he said accusingly. 'And I have listened to everything you have had to say!' he added defiantly.

'Harry, being alone will not ease your pain-' Harry glared at Dumbledore. 'JUST LET ME OUT! I WANT TO BE ALONE!' he shouted.

Dumbledore winced. 'Harry, you will have to stay in my quarters today. I am very sorry about this. You need rest, and you need to have emotional support. Being alone will not help you. Come with me.'

'I won't,' said Harry coldly. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his rage. Dumbledore had _promised. _Once again, he had lied to Harry. Lied.

'LIES!' yelled Harry suddenly. He desperately tried to calm his shaking breaths. 'You've lied to me again! And again! And again!' he added furiously. 'And you offer me lip sympathy; you explain to me that you care. That I'm not just a weapon. Well, I know the truth! That's just what I am - a stupid pawn which you can move around the chessboard as you want! I should have known – you've taken far too much personal interest in my life! People don't do such things without a reason!' he spat.

Dumbledore sighed as Harry walked back to his seat and flopped into the chair. Harry stared down at his knees. He had finished ranting at Dumbledore and he was now going to sit seething, but silently until Dumbledore let him out.

After a long silence, Dumbledore cleared his throat and said mildly, 'Harry, you need to allow your body to rest'. Harry, who had until then not acknowledged that his headmaster was speaking glanced up and glared at Dumbledore.

'Please, Harry. I have no wish to see you suffer. Quite the contrary, in fact. I believe that if you spend the day here-'

'No,' said Harry shortly.

Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be a very long day.  
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**A/N: **How was it? Please review!! Reviews make me happy! Thanks D


	3. Overwhelmed By Grief

**Author's Note: **I'm really sorry for the late update! I have been extremely busy with studies and exams, not to mention an overseas holiday over which internet access was limited. That's still no excuse, but I hope it's enough. I hope you will continue to read this story and most importantly, review! I appreciate all your reviews, they keep me going! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort (haha not that I'd want to!) or Sirius Black. Those characters are entirely the property of J.K. Rowling. I am not intending to make any form of profit from this story.

**Overwhelmed by agony**

_After a long silence, Dumbledore cleared his throat and said mildly, 'Harry, you need to allow your body to rest'. Harry, who had until then not acknowledged that his headmaster was speaking glanced up and glared at Dumbledore._

'_Please, Harry. I have no wish to see you suffer. Quite the contrary, in fact. I believe that if you spend the day here-'_

'_No,' said Harry shortly._

_Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be a very long day._

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Harry was furious. After everything he had seen and experienced that night, this was the final straw. He had unwillingly listened to Dumbledore's explanations and theories with the main consolation that soon, he would be able to leave his office and come to grips with the reality of the last couple of hours on his own.

He didn't want to be surrounded by people, least of all Dumbledore when he felt so wrecked and miserable. He did not want to be thought of as weak, nor did he want sympathy from his friends and professors. He just wanted to be on his own, to try and sort out his feelings. Most of all, he wanted to hang onto the hope that maybe, just maybe Sirius was not really dead but had managed to come out from under the veil after the fighting had stopped.

He stared pointedly at his hands which lay on his knees, still trembling although it had been quite some time since he was possessed by Voldemort. He felt cold, although there was a brightly burning fire in the fireplace making ominous shadows dance up and down on the surrounding walls. He shivered.

He got up from his seat and stole a glance at Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who was staring intently at Harry quickly averted his gaze and became very interested in the portrait in which Phineas was slumbering. Brow crinkled in annoyance, Harry shuffled towards the fire and tried to warm himself, his back still to Dumbledore. He knew he was being rude, but he also knew that he was restraining himself from another outburst of anger by not speaking to the elderly professor.

Five minutes later, 'What happened, Harry?' Dumbledore asked gently. Harry jumped and turned around.

'Nothing. I just got cold,' he muttered.

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. 'Would you like some tea to help you with the chill?' he inquired kindly.

Harry, who had turned back to the fire and had just caught sight of a small clay pot filled with floo powder, had just had a marvelous idea or at least it seemed to be so at the time. What if, he travelled by floo to the fireplace of Professor McGonagall's office? McGonagall wouldn't be there, she was still in the infirmary. By escaping, he could be alone and think…about what had happened, and best of all away from Dumbledore's unfeeling remarks and empty words of comfort.

A lump appeared in his throat and Harry found his eyes starting to burn. No matter how much he wanted to believe that Sirius had escaped from the veil, he knew, deep down that Dumbledore was right. Sirius was dead. Sirius would never write to him again. A lone tear slipped down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away. It made him acknowledge the urgency of his departure from Dumbledore's office. There was no way he would allow himself to _crack _before Dumbledore. It was just a matter of time before it happened, he realized.

He turned around and nodded. 'Yes sir,' he croaked, hoping against hope that Dumbledore would need to leave the room. Then he could investigate the fireplace a little more closely. He was pretty certain that it would be possible to travel through it as Dumbledore had done so only three hours earlier and he had not heard him enable any wards to stop floo travel.

Dumbledore smiled and got to his feet, relieved that Harry was not refusing food. Maybe, just maybe if he was patient, Harry would give his assent to staying in these quarters for the emotional support he so desperately needed. He went to the wall directly behind him and _pushed _it aside as though it were some kind of curtain. Harry realized, with a start that it was a tapestry, deliberately made to camouflage the entrance to Dumbledore's inner quarters.

The second that Dumbledore had gone, Harry plunged his fist into the small pot of floo powder and stepped gingerly into the fireplace. 'Professor McGonagall's office,' he whispered softly.

Nothing happened. There was no _whooshing_ noise nor was he spinning and engulfed by emerald flames. It was as though the fireplace was out of order. Harry wondered what he did wrong. Maybe you weren't supposed to _whisper_ the name of the place where you wanted to go. He tried again, saying quite loudly, 'Professor McGonagall's office!' this time with a hint of desperation in his voice. Again, he stood standing stock still just where he was.

Furious, Harry stepped out of the flames and brushed off the soot which had come into contact with the bottom of his robes. _Meddlesome, cunning and manipulating _Dumbledore. He had anticipated Harry's actions and had prevented them accordingly. Harry had never felt more trapped, afraid and lonely in all his life and desperately wanted to see Sirius, to be reassured by his presence, hug him and never let go...

The two-way mirror! If only he could go back to Gryffindor tower, and hunt for that mirror. He could talk to Sirius, wherever he was! Sirius had, after all, told him that he would always carry the mirror with him. Just say he was carrying it last night? Breathless with excitement, Harry was halfway towards the door when he realized how fruitless his idea was. He was a prisoner of Dumbledore's office and most likely to be so until he faced his emotions, which he was determined to _never_ face even whilst alone. Pretending _Sirius hadn't died_ was helping him feel better. He would pretend for the rest of his life, if it had to be so. Just so long as he did not have to _deal _with his emotions.

The two-way mirror. _Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh shit_! The words echoed over and over in Harry's head. The two-way mirror. If he had _only _thought of that a mere 10 hours ago, _Sirius would not have been killed_. He would have been able to contact Sirius through the mirror and see for himself if he had really left Dumbledore's office. He had, possibly, the biggest mistake of his life so far. A mistake that cost him dearly.

Waves after waves of shock crashed over Harry as he stood stock-still in the centre of Dumbledore's office. He began to shake uncontrollably. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs and he found himself having difficulty breathing. It seemed as though the air was out his reach. His breaths were shallow and irregular, and he felt the room spin around him. Feeling suffocated and slightly nauseated, he let himself drop to the floor, and hunched over his knees, trying to calm himself desperately.

Suddenly overwhelmed with nausea, he found himself unable to take deep breaths and relieve himself of the sensation. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and he felt his face growing hot with shame and misery. He could feel warm tears gushing from his eyes, their saltiness making his cheeks burn as though they were on fire.

He knew he was crying now, beyond consolation. He was aware of his heart-rending sobs, which reverberated throughout the office and wracked his quaking body. Was it really he that was crying so loudly? He tried desperately to stop the tears from falling, but it seemed as though that now they had started, they would not stop. He tore at his hair in frustration, then clawed frantically at his eyes, but could not stop the tears nor quell the agony convulsing throughout his body.

Sirius's death seemed evident for what it really was. There was no way that he could continue this game of charades, where he would pretend that he had not really died but had actually escaped the veil soon after. The pain of losing Sirius seemed excruciating and overwhelming. Utterly spent in the evening, crippled by pain and the loss of yet another loved one and consumed by guilt, Harry found himself inconsolable. He felt as though there was a _creature_ in his chest and was trying to devour him entirely from the inside. The pain of his guilt and misery was unbearable.

Footsteps came running, and he felt a hand rest gently on his back. 'It's alright, Harry,' whispered Dumbledore. He patted him on the back, murmuring softly. He took Harry's hand and squeezed it for comfort. Harry wrenched back his hand, angry that he was acting so weak in front of Dumbledore. He wiped his face furiously, but found to his horror that the tears would not stop flowing. When Dumbledore offered him his hand once more, Harry accepted it and tried to focus on taking deep breaths. He was dimly aware of Dumbledore smoothing back his hair tenderly, trying to comfort him in a gentle, soothing voice. Although he was unable to comprehend their meaning, Harry felt momentarily safe and loved.

Much to his intense embarrassment, he found that Dumbledore had enveloped him in a protective, comforting embrace. He found himself suddenly wanting Dumbledore to go away and let him cry alone. He was reminded strongly of Sirius and he tried to pull away, as he knew it would only make him feel worse. But suddenly, the reality sunk in again, and the words echoed through Harry's mind, _Sirius is _dead. Utterly exhausted and tired from fighting the painful emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Harry gave up and broke down completely.

The last thing he remembered was that he was in Dumbledore's arms, struggling to contain his grief for the loss of his beloved Sirius. Then, he watched the world spin around him and allowed the waves of darkness to engulf him.

**Author's note: **How was it?! Please read and review! I am aware of the flaw in this chapter; credit goes to anonymous reviewer 'd'. I had not brushed up on the fifth book before writing this story – the last time I read it was four years ago. In the book, Harry does not know that the package he is given from Sirius is actually a two-way mirror. In order for this scene to be effective, I would like you all to assume that he had known about it but did not think about it on the evening in question. Thank you for reading! :)


	4. Lord Voldemort's Triumph

**Author's Note: **This is my fourth chapter for 'To Not Show Weakness'. For all those reading **pretty please review my story!** I really appreciate your thoughtfulness when you review. Reviews make me feel more confident about my story and make me want to continue writing it. I have modified this story in that it is not entirely based on Dumbledore and Harry but part of the plot line will involve Snape and Voldemort, etc.

I'd like to thank: kittyrunner, Spiorad, Aimael, ChocolateIsMyDrug, Rosaleen and Emma-girl especially for their reviews, it meant a lot to me!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, Severus Snape, Sirius Black or any of the other minor characters that feature throughout this story. Those characters are entirely the property of J.K. Rowling. I am not intending to make any financial profit from this story.

**Lord Voldemort's Triumph**

_The last thing he remembered was that he was in Dumbledore's arms, struggling to contain his grief for the loss of his beloved Sirius. Then, he watched the world spin around him and allowed the waves of  
darkness to engulf him._

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Lord Voldemort was very pleased with his Death Eaters. He had finally uncovered the last bit of information relating to blood wards, with their assistance. He had given each of his most trusted followers a specific task concerning the wards to research and now that all the information was collated, he could not have been more satisfied.

Now it was time to begin Plan B. The Light side was made up of a bunch of imbeciles, he decided. They honestly thought they had _won_ after the episode at the Department of Mysteries. They had _no _way of knowing that he, Lord Voldemort had been fully aware of the chances of Plan A failing and had formulated Plan B, knowing that an even _better_ fall-back plan was required, one that was inscrutable and indestructible.

Indeed, he nodded around approvingly at the group of Death Eaters crowded around the long, oblong wooden table. They were a fearsome bunch, tall and muscular, wearing black robes and masks. His red, laser-like eyes penetrated through each Death Eater's mask, silently acknowledging who was present and more importantly, who _was not_.

He frowned; Severus Snape was mysteriously absent. It was unusual for him to be away from a meeting. He _was _becoming a problem. Maybe he knew that he was suspected of treachery. Maybe he no longer wanted to be a part of _the plan _anymore. In that case, it was necessary for him to leave this world. Voldemort did not like unexpected interruptions to his plans.

Still, to be sure. 'Remove your masks,' he whispered dangerously.

With flourish, the Death Eaters ripped off their masks and stood with their heads slightly bowed in front of their master.

Lord Voldemort eyed them keenly. He then allowed his expression turn to anger. He was satisfied when a shudder rippled through the circle of Death Eaters. Control was necessary to the plan.

He dropped his gaze at that precise moment, and then chose to examine his long, thin fingers under the dim lighting. Each and every one of the Death Eaters knew he was suddenly exceedingly displeased, and each one could only pray that it was not because of him.

Finally, he stared around again, this time frostily at his followers. 'Where is Severus Snape?' he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

There was silence among them. Voldemort watched his followers for a minute. 'I see,' he observed.

'M-M-My Lord,' stuttered Crabbe. Voldemort turned his head so that he was staring directly at him. Crabbe gave an observable, involuntary shiver as the serpent-like eyes pierced through his very soul. 'We have no idea where Snape is, we have not heard from him since the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic three days ago-'

'Silence!' snarled Voldemort. 'Do you know where he is, Goyle?'

Goyle shook his head in terror. 'No, my Lord,' he whispered.

'Snape is a traitor!' yelled Bellatrix and cackled loudly, her laughter reverberating through the cold room, rippling through the silence.

'Fools!' Voldemort spat in disgust. 'I will not let him go unpunished. He must suffer the consequences for alerting the Aurors and thwarting me in my attempt to attain the Prophecy,' he continued viciously. The Death Eaters stiffened at his unnerving tone.

'Search for him and bring him to me,' he ordered.

'Yes, my Lord,' murmured the Death Eaters solemnly.

At that moment, the door to the room swung open and strode in none other than Severus Snape.

Ignoring the looks of contempt and jeers from the watching Death Eaters, Snape strode down the room to Voldemort where he bent down on his knees and kissed the hem of his master's robes. 'My Lord,' he murmured.

'You betrayed me, Snape,' Voldemort said softly, his voice dripping with exaggerated disappointment. 'You sent the Aurors, who prevented me from obtaining the Prophecy and the Potter brat escaped.'

Snape was expecting this from Voldemort and had a fully prepared explanation for his actions that evening.

'Come now, my Lord,' he said silkily. 'You know that I would never do such a thing. I am the most loyal of your followers-' he waved off the noises of protest made by the other followers 'and I request you to give me a chance to explain my actions.'

Voldemort eyed him coldly. 'Proceed with your explanation, then,' he commanded, pointing his wand directly at Snape.

Snape cleared his throat. 'As you very well know, Dumbledore was not at Hogwarts, which left me in a rather difficult position. In order to not jeopardize my position at Hogwarts I had to act in the safest manner possible. I did not have much choice. I _had _to send the Aurors, but when I did so was entirely up to me. I sent the message much later than intended. This gave the Death Eaters at the Ministry adequate time to disarm the teenagers and obtain the Prophecy-'

'Don't you dare blame them, Snape, _you _weren't there-' snarled Narcissa Malfoy.

Snape sneered. 'Missing Lucius are we?' he asked snidely.

Narcissa tried to glare fiercely at him, but her eyes glimmered with tears.

'Do you really mean to tell me that our Death Eaters are not a match for a group of _children_?' Snape asked coolly, raising his eyebrows. 'No, I think not. I think they were reckless and careless with the time they had-'

'Another word, Snape, I'm warning you-' hissed Narcissa.

'Oh, be quiet Cissy,' murmured Bellatrix. 'How would Snape know anything, he was too much of a coward, didn't even turn up to watch, did you Snape-'

'DON'T CALL ME A COWARD-' yelled Snape suddenly beside himself.

'Silence!' snapped Voldemort, who until now seemed to have been enjoying the obvious discord and lack of harmony and unity between the Death Eaters and Snape. Snape had worn out his welcome, it seemed.

'Continue, Snape.'

'That's all there is, my Lord. I was put in a precarious position, where there was only one possible course of action. The timing of when that action was executed, however, rested with me and I used this to our advantage. I hope you are satisfied with my explanation, my Lord. There was nothing else I could do.' Snape finished softly, restraining himself from looking away from the Dark Lord. That would never do.

He could feel the Dark Lord attempting to enter his mind. He enabled him access and skillfully buried those memories which he did not wish to share with the Dark Lord at the back of his mind, in the deepest, darkest corner. His mental defenses were fully in place and there was no possibility that the Dark Lord could see any more than what he was shown.

Apparently convinced, Voldemort nodded his head. 'Very well, Snape.' He said softly. 'But, you were still late. _Crucio_!' he murmured.

Snape dropped to the ground where he squirmed with the pain. He twitched horribly and gritted his teeth to contain the screams threatening to burst out of him. When the spell was finally released, he lay shivering violently on the cold floor and then got to his feet, still shaking badly. He could hear the other Death Eaters laughing wildly in the background, some applauding their master for his latest delivery of punishment.

Lord Voldemort smiled cruelly as Snape struggled to stay upright, gasping for breath.

'It's not over yet,' he whispered, the venomous smile still plastered on his thin lips.

***

When Severus Snape entered Dumbledore's office around midnight that night to relate to him the details of the meeting with the Dark Lord, he was astounded to see several of Dumbledore's most prized possessions lying smashed on the floor. It did not take him very long to determine the reason for the wreckage present in the office.

'Headmaster Dumbledore' greeted Snape, trying to school his features into a non-sneering expression. A difficult task, naturally.

'Severus,' nodded Dumbledore, getting to his feet slowly. 'Would you care for a sweet?' he asked, extending out a box of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans. He looked preoccupied and worried, and more tired than usual. Lines of worry were etched into every crease on his worn, ancient face. Snape was suddenly left with a feeling of pity for him.

'Potter's work, I presume.' Snape commented, staring down at the irreparable parts scattered throughout the office with revulsion and ignoring the box of sweets offered to him. He did not _like _sweets; sweets did not bode well with him.

Dumbledore sighed. 'He's not well, Severus. He is dealing very poorly with the death of Sirius, I am afraid. I am worried about him,'

Snape scowled. He _hated _talking about Potter in his visits to Dumbledore. He strode to the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk which had been vacated by Harry two days earlier and rubbed his temples tiredly.

'How did the meeting with Tom go, Severus?'

Snape rolled his eyes at the use of the Dark Lord's childhood name. Just because _Dumbledore _did not fear the Dark Lord _at all_...

'Not well. He suspects me, as I was responsible for sending the Aurors to the Department of Mysteries. He thinks that is why he failed to obtain the Prophecy and-'

'Failed to kill Harry,' finished Dumbledore for him.

'Precisely,' said Snape.

'Did he punish you?'

'Not more than usually. I noticed he seemed jubilant during the rest of the meeting.'

'Jubilant?' repeated Dumbledore thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

Snape shuddered. The Dark Lord had seemed exceedingly happy. He was never one to display his emotions so publicly.

'I do not know if he deliberately feigned happiness in order to _make _us think he was happy or if he really has achieved something and is exhilarated as a result.'

Dumbledore said nothing, but still looked thoughtful.

That is all. I will depart,' said Snape stiffly. He rose a little too hastily. He wanted to be _out _of this office before _Potter_ featured next in this discussion. He did not want to be lectured on how it was necessary for him to treat the boy with _kindness_ now that he had lost his godfather.

Dumbledore seemed to have sensed his hurry in escaping his office, for he gave him a piercing look.

'I _hate _it when you do that!' muttered Snape.

'Please sit down, Severus,' requested Dumbledore.

Snape sat, not looking too happy. 'Is this about Potter?' he spat.

Dumbledore nodded hesitantly. 'Yes, I am afraid it is.'

Snape scowled furiously. 'I do not see the point in wasting my valuable time on that _brat_' he snarled.

'Please be compassionate, Severus. He has now lost the only parental figure in his life-'

'Compassionate?' exploded Snape. 'He was not acting _compassionately _when he poked his nose-'

'Enough,' said Dumbledore coolly. 'You punished him more than adequately for his mistake.'

Snape said nothing, but he shifted uneasily in his seat. It _was _true, after all. Perhaps Potter would not have gone after Black had he learnt to occlude his mind properly. If he, Snape had continued teaching him.

'He broke down in my office two days ago. He has been unconscious since,' continued Dumbledore morosely. 'I could not console the boy, Severus. I had encouraged him to express his emotions, but I was not prepared for the extent of his emotional breakdown. I am not entirely certain if he will recover from this ordeal any time too soon-'

'Have you called Madame Pomfrey?' Snape asked curtly.

'Yes, I have. She was unable to determine the extent of the damage, both physically and emotionally.'

Snape stayed silent, but he knew what the Headmaster wanted him to do. Let him _ask_, he thought savagely.

'I ask of you a favour, Severus. Will you look after him?' asked Dumbledore resignedly.

'What?!' exploded Snape again. He had not been expecting that at all. Brewing a potion, yes. But looking _after _him? 'I absolutely refuse to _coddle _that brat.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'All I meant was if you would be kind enough to check over his progress and brew some potions to help him recover-'

'It seems as though you have given me little choice,' spat Snape resentfully.

'For now, would you be able to brew me a potion to revive him from his unconscious state?' asked Dumbledore.

Snape restrained from rolling his eyes. He couldn't see why Dumbledore was so anxious for Potter to snap out of it. He personally would have enjoyed a week's rest without the boy.

'Fine.' He said, trying to be as gracious as possible, but unfortunately could not keep the sneer from his lips. 'I will administer it to Potter early tomorrow morning. It will take time to brew it if I do not have some ready.'

'Very well, Severus. Thank you,'

Snape rose. He looked weak and tired. He walked to the door and paused for a moment then turned around. 'Potter ought to be punished for destroying your most precious possessions,' he commented. 'I will gladly do so if you are unwilling to do so yourself,' he sneered.

He was agitated by Dumbledore's reply.

'No, Severus that will not be necessary. I deserved it and much worse.'

Dumbledore winced as the door of his office slammed shut with a resounding impact.

**A/N: How was it? Please review and let me know! Your reviews mean A LOT to me :)**


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